


Five Times John Noticed But Didn't Really

by ScandalousMinds



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Adorably Bratty Sherlock, Arguing, Caring John, Confused John, Cuddling & Snuggling, Domestic Disputes, Domestic Fluff, Eventual Johnlock, First Kiss, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, Friendship/Love, Gen, Humor, Jealous Sherlock, John has the patience of a saint, Love Confessions, M/M, Oblivious John, Oblivious Sherlock, Pre-Slash, Sherlock Being Sherlock, Sherlock Being an Idiot, Sherlock Is A Bit Not Good, Sherlock is a Brat, Touching, implied infidelity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-17
Updated: 2014-04-14
Packaged: 2018-01-12 20:48:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,383
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1199691
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ScandalousMinds/pseuds/ScandalousMinds
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>5 times John (thought) he noticed something peculiar about his and Sherlock's relationship but really missed the obvious.<br/> </p><p>This is my first fic so please be gentle with me :)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The First Time John Noticed

**Author's Note:**

> Obviously I don't own Sherlock I Just Belong to it's fandom!
> 
> Apologies for any spelling or grammar errors.
> 
> Not Beta'd

The first time John noticed was a Wednesday mid-afternoon. Sherlock had just gotten a text from Lestrade about a case involving a very stupid criminal and a very rich victim, which John thought was decidedly strange as Sherlock usually thought such cases weren’t even remotely of interest. However, Sherlock had appeared from the kitchen all but abandoning his latest “experiment” (although John was more inclined to call it “the mouldy mush in the teacup”) and was absentmindedly texting as he walked over to John’s sitting chair where John was on his laptop typing up their last case “The kindle wood sniper” just as John was getting to the thrilling part where Sherlock had emerged from the bushes looking incredibly Rambo-esque startling both the killer and a few of the Yard officers John briefly realised what was happening. 

Sherlock’s hand was idly resting on John’s neck just below his hairline. What caught John’s attention however was the fact that until just neither he nor Sherlock were aware it was even happening. Which John thought was… odd to say the very least. What was even odder was the fact that his typing hadn’t even faltered, as if his brain and his body were so used to such tactile touching and ministrations from his flat mate that they didn’t even register it as strange. Sherlock apparently also didn’t think anything of it either simply continuing to text Lestrade.

“We have a case.” Sherlock stated absently.

“Hmm, okay what is it?” John stated just as absently.

“Burglary.” 

“Hardly even sounds like a six” John puzzled.

“It’s not, it’s barely even a four. Rather dull, but it get’s us out of the flat.” Sherlock finished simply as he slid his phone into his pocket.

“Alright, just let me finish this sentence.” 

“Very well. However, you’ll be the one explaining to Lestrade why were late.” Sherlock sighed as he took his phone back out of his pocket and resumed his texting. 

Neither of the two men noticed that Sherlock’s hand not only hadn’t moved but also in fact had begun kneading smoothly into the tight muscles in John’s neck. True to his word though John finished his sentence and the two of men set off to meet Lestrade for what was definitely a rather dull case.


	2. The Second Time John Noticed

The second time John noticed was a Monday when he and Sherlock were at the yard. John, Sherlock, Donovan and Lestrade were waiting in Lestrade’s office to hear back from the surveillance team, so Lestrade (though really it was Sherlock) could decide when to move in on their criminal of the week. Anderson had been rather rapidly forced to be somewhere other then where Sherlock could see him.

Donovan and Lestrade were huddled together discussing the strongest and securest way to ambush their criminal. John and Sherlock however didn’t partake, as both knew that Sherlock would go whatever way he saw fit and his way although, direct was almost certainly not secure but that was where John came in.

Sherlock and John sat on the small two-seater in the corner of the office bizarrely discussing John’s hands as Sherlock cradled them, in his much larger, softer hands. John briefly took notice before going back to pleading his case.

“No! I’m not going to do it.”

“Honestly John what are you afraid of? That people will think your less of a man? I had no idea it was so important to you to be so… butch.” Sherlock bit out rather cuttingly.

“It has nothing to do with that—“John began only to be unceremoniously cut off by the ranting detective.

“It has everything to do with that. I really should have guessed you’d be one of those men who have practically stone-age ideologies about masculinity. How disappointing” Sherlock turned his head effectively all but ending the conversation, but still remained cradling John hands.

“Sherl—Sherlock? Oh, don’t get all moody. I just don’t want to. If you do it’s fine, but I don’t see why it’s necessary for me do it as well.” John sighed.

Sherlock merely huffed.

“Why do you always give me the silent treatment when you don’t get your own way? We should be about to discuss this rationally. You don’t always have to get so… emotional.” Immediately John knew his chosen word had been completely the wrong one to use.

Sherlock’s head whipped around so fast his curls looked windswept.

“Excuse me? I am most certainly not… emotional.” Sherlock spit out the word as if it were the ‘mouldy mush in the teacup’

“Is that what you think? All I simply tried to do—no you’re completely right I won’t say another thing about your wellbeing. I would hate for you to think me... emotional.” Sherlock spat dropping John’s onto his lap and turning away.

In truth John did believe that Sherlock was being completely over emotional about the whole thing but he knew better than to repeat his mistake and the doctor was aware of the fact he and Sherlock shouldn’t be fighting before they were due to go in to a hostile situation where they would need to communicate with one another.

Unthinkingly John caressed gently at Sherlock’s knee trying to placate him, he simply got a huff in response but he noted Sherlock’s cold shoulder was getting decidedly warmer though still quite cold.

“I’m sorry Sherlock, I shouldn’t have said ‘emotional’ that was… unfair” John continued to mollify the pouty detective as he rubbed small circles on Sherlock’s leg.

“I know you meant well. I just don’t—“ John stopped as Sherlock’s shoulders got tense again. John lifted his other hand that wasn’t rubbing Sherlock’s thigh now and pinched the bridge of his nose before dropping it behind Sherlock and intuitively wrapping it slightly around his waist.

As Sherlock relaxed into the doctors touch, John realised that he was close to breaking the massive sulk that was was already in the process of setting in and the doctor soon realised if he wanted to completely stop Sherlock from being unbearable for the next week or so, he would have to concede. Lifting his hand off of Sherlock’s thigh and capturing Sherlock’s hand, John breathed deeply trying not to think of the fact that yet again he was giving Sherlock his way… but it truly was the easier route sometimes.

“Fine Sherlock.” John sighed

Sherlock turned ever so slightly, carefully side-eying John. “Fine what?”

John puffed out the last of his resistance. “Fine, I’ll… start using… that… bloody hand moisturiser you bought me.”

Sherlock who had been slowly turning around while John was talking was fully facing John now and smiling almost bashfully if Sherlock Holmes were capable of such a thing. John however wasn’t smiling he hated that bloody moisturiser it made him smell like his bloody grandmother.

Appeased Sherlock simply brushed his thumb over John knuckles. Murmuring “Thank you John.”

“Mmhmm.” Was all John responded before looking up to see both Lestrade and Donovan watching them in morbid fascination with their mouths agape before John could analyse why fully, the call from the surveillance team came in and they all fell into work mode running out to catch their killer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed this chapter the next one again is a tad bit longer.


	3. The Third Time John Noticed

The third time John notice was the Sunday after a particularly exhausting week of working at the surgery and on cases with Sherlock. John was watching a predictable but strangely fascinating movie about a lost dog, it was your typical tearjerker kind of a movie but the doctor had already invested an hour in it so he wanted to see how it ended. 40 minutes before the end of the movie as if on cue Sherlock came flouncing into the living room all curls and silk dressing gown, locked and ready to unleash his full dramatic whirlwind. 

“What are you actually doing? How can you stand it? How does your brain not turn to slop? Ugh if boredom could kill, I would be deader then Mrs. Hudson’s husband. Actually maybe I could go and—“

“No!” John cut in simply; there was no negotiation in his voice.

“No? What do you mean no?” Sherlock quizzed rather put out.

“Sherlock it is Sunday morning. You are not going to go and disrupt that poor woman on a Sunday. If your bored do an experiment or read a book or even watch some TV with me, but it is Sunday and you will not be a bother to anyone one a Sunday, are we clear?” John hadn’t taken his eyes off of the television so he didn’t see the incredulous look on Sherlock’s face.

“Just who do you—“ Sherlock started

“No.” John said eyes locked on the screen.

Sherlock stood watching John with his mouth agape actually stunned speechless by John’s insolence.

“I won’t repeat myself. You heard your options. Make a choice and go with it.” John spoke calmly which only incensed Sherlock more.

Stomping his foot forcefully on the floor enough to be a disruption to John and Mrs. Hudson below. John leapt up from his chair and stalked over to Sherlock who although had put on his best ‘I-will-do-what-I-like-you-don’t-intimidate-me’ face was backing into the table. As soon as John was merely millimeters from obliterating Sherlock’s personal space John reached around him picking up Sherlock’s phone and began typing furiously at it.

“W-what are you do—“

“I gave you three choices Sherlock. You will choose one NOW or I will choose the forth option.” John spoke with an authority Sherlock rarely pushed.

“And what exactly is said forth option?” Sherlock asked while jutting his chin out with all the false bravado he could muster.

“Well since you’re so incredibly bored. I’ve drafted a text asking Mycroft to come round for Lunch, I can press send if you like?”

“Please I could just simply leave and come back when he’s gone. That’s hardly a threat.” Sherlock snorted.

“Oh no you WOULD be staying because if you didn’t I promise you every single sodding experiment you even think about touching will be binned, burnt or dismantled for the next year and then… then I’ll tell Lestrade not to give you one single buggering case and after the way you behaved Thursday it wouldn’t be a huge ask and then I’d tell Molly about those pair of mucus filled lungs you stole, you know the ones she got in trouble for losing? So then you’d have no access to body parts either. And then the Pisa résistance I will invite sodding Mycroft around for dinner every-single bloody evening for a month. How’s that for a threat?” 

John quirked an eyebrow at the inevitable checkmate.

Sherlock’s face twitched in ways that gave John boundless satisfaction. “You—you wouldn’t dare.” Sherlock challenged weakly.

“Try me.” John countered “Now! Three options. Choose one now or I go for the nuclear option of number four. I’ll count to 5 and then press send.”

Sherlock was visibly torn between testing John limits and saving himself the pain of John’s horrifying threat.

“1—2—3—4—“ counted slowly hovering his thumb dangerously over the send button.

“FINE! I WILL WATCH YOUR STUPID BUGGERING TWATTING TELEVISION!” Sherlock shrieked barging past John flinging himself across the room and huddling himself in the corner of the sofa like an angry Disney witch.

John tried to wipe the smile that was tugging at the corner of his mouth away not wanting to anger his personal Cruella De Ville anymore and simply sat in the other corner watching what was left of his movie. The two men spent all morning watching TV together with Sherlock even occasionally chuckling, at the inane sitcoms before he remembered his self-imposed sulk shouldn’t be broken. When eventually John broke his trance like state with the TV he looked up to see Sherlock looking obviously uncomfortable curled tightly into the ball he fell into hours ago, Sherlock was like a cat he liked to stretch out while lounging. 

Sighing a the stubbornness of the man John lifted a cushion onto his lap and turned back towards the TV knowing that Sherlock’s pride wouldn’t allow him to give in easily and give John the pleasure of being right. Another hour passed and Sherlock remained resolutely in the corner so John got up to make himself a cup of tea and a sandwich technically he made two as he knew Sherlock would nibble at johns when he’d stopped pouting at being reprimanded. As John came back to his seat he put the cushion back on his lap and rested the plate with the sandwiches on the arm of the sofa. 

After 10 minutes or so Sherlock slowly uncurled, gradually crawling forward to stretch out and rest his head on John’s lap. John kept his eyes glued to the TV allowing Sherlock to save face and soon began gently carding his fingers through Sherlock’s curls as he nestled further into Johns lap humming accidentally every now and then. John fleetingly considered and took notice of what they must looked like but went back to watching the TV enjoying what was left of their Sunday which progressed rather smoothly after the mornings initial hiccup.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter has yet another bust up... These two honestly, what can I say?


	4. The Forth Time John Noticed

The forth time John noticed was a Thursday. The two men had come stumbling into 221B not really looking or feeling their best since they had just spent the better part of two days being held hostage by two rather handy captors. The doctor and the detective themselves were only rescued because of an incredibly badly relayed message John had left for Lestrade, which had been so incredibly badly relayed because Sherlock had given John practically no information meaning he was forced to piece together the little scraps of information Sherlock had given him causing the doctor to have to attempt to make uncertain deductions of the mad genius’ next possible move which was no easy feat at the best of times, luckily however Lestrade isn’t the idiot Sherlock constantly claims him to be.

As they made their way upstairs Sherlock started to make a beeline for his intestines experiment while simultaneously ordering John to make tea. Sherlock’s attempt however was thwarted pretty quickly by a firm grip on his elbow yanking him towards the bathroom. “—But… John—“ Sherlock tried to no avail.

In full army doctor mode he pointed his order to the lidded toilet seat “Sit.” Which surprisingly Sherlock complied with without much fuss.

John took out his medical kit from under the sink pulling out his suturing equipment as well as a few wipes and gauzes and began working on the younger man making no effort to warn Sherlock of when pain was coming, deeming it as an appropriate minor punishment for the idiotic genius.

“Ow” Sherlock hissed as the doctor started to clean the rather sore looking cut on his eyebrow.

“Oh does it hurt?” John asked with all the faux compassion and sarcasm his own exhaustion would allow.

Sherlock began mumbling with more self-pity than he had any right to be feeling “well actually it does somewhat.”

“Good!” John stated coldly.

“Honestly John has anyone ever told you that you have an absolutely lovely bedside manner?”

John’s hands stilled mid-suture “Don’t push me Sherlock.”

The detective simply huffed “Fine.” As they lapsed back into silence until John decided to voice a piece of his mind.

“How many times have I told you, not to go running into situations before you’ve talked to me about them first? How many?”

Sherlock sighed dramatically rolling eyes, instantly regretting it as a surge of pain clawed at his face.

“You always do this. You run off into danger with absolutely no thought of your safety or anyone else’s. A simply text or even a bloody note would be better than forcing everyone to participate in your own bloody version of where’s bloody Wally.”

“John” Sherlock huffed having the nerve to sound exasperated. “There was no time to—“ 

Sherlock growled at John’s less than careful suturing technique. “Good grief… it worked out in the end didn’t it? We got the gruesome twosome didn’t we? Where was the harm?”

John gaped at the infuriating man in front of him. “Wha—what do you mean where was the harm? Have you seen us? We have matching black eyes, you have a busted lip, I have a whole side of bruised ribs, your nose has only just stopped bleeding and that’s only thanks to the tampon Sally politely offered—“

“It wasn’t politeness that made her offer, she enjoyed it” the detective sneered “Seeing me being humiliated. Honestly I’m quite sure there were several other alternative methods that could have been used rather than using those damnable sanitary devices. It was mortifying” 

If John weren’t so pissed off he would have been doubled over laughing at the memory, however as it was he didn’t at the moment see the funny side.

“You brought it on yourself, looking down on everyone as if it were everyone else’s fault that you got yourself into the situ—no sorry got ‘US’ into the situation ‘WE’ got into.”

“I didn’t ask you to involve yourself.” The younger man clearly spoke without thinking.

“No, no you right, you didn’t did you? You never do. You just expect me to follow you and be your obedient little lackey.” John spat “And I’m the idiot who allows you to treat me that way.” John briefly remembered the time he had overheard an argument between Harry and Clara and how bizarrely similar Clara's phrasing had been to his just now. (odd) he concluded.

Sherlock snorted. “Oh dear lord and you call me the drama queen?” 

And that was the last straw because of course Sherlock saw nothing wrong with mocking someone who’d just saved his life and was stitching him up before John himself had even had a chance to check his injuries first. Selfish prat. “You know what, I can’t do this.” 

“Can’t do what? John where are you—“ John was mildly, temporally stunned. Sherlock Holmes was looking genuinely 'somewhat' startled.

“I don’t know how to talk to you right now, your such hard work, I just can’t—“ 

“John—“ Sherlock shockingly was almost pleading and grabbing instinctively at John’s wrist trying to hold him in place. The doctor had to admit as thin as Sherlock was John actually had to work quite hard to unclasp Sherlock’s talons from him. 

“Let go of me Sherlock.” John sighed fighting to prize young detective off, as he seemed be to holding on even tighter. “Sherlock stop it—“

“Ok—fine, fine perhaps I can admit that perhaps I miscalculated… a bit and perhaps I can concede that said slight miscalculations may have led us into our slight bit of bother.”

And that for Sherlock Holmes was quite the declaration and at any other time John might well have jumped to accept it but today wasn’t that time.

“Perhaps you—“ John snorted, “do you actually know how to apologise like a normal person? I just—I need to”

“Please John I—“ something piteous in Sherlock’s eyes made John pause for a moment feeling a brief need in the middle of his anger to reassure the younger man. 

“I’ll come back, I just need to get some fresh air.” John said calmly while once again trying to free himself.

The detectives voice was soft when he spoke again. “You won’t come back.”

The doctor let out a deep breath. “Sherlock obviously I’ll come back… I mean... all my stuff’s here.”

Sherlock paused dropping the iron grip on John’s hand as if it had burned him. Before John could reflect or react he saw the scornful glare that was usually reserved for Mycroft and instantly knew something hostile was coming.

“Fine go. Quite honestly, I don’t even know why I keep you around. You have so few uses… other than making tea and distracting me but let's face it even Mrs. Hudson can do that, does it quite frequently in fact. Frankly, if she was a decent shot you'd quickly become surplus.”

The doctor’s mouth instantly pulled into a tight line and his eyes narrowed at the young detective. After a moment of considering several possible petty comebacks the doctor simply decided less was more and simply shook his head and turned towards the doorway sighing a simple “bye Sherlock” as he left, dragging his phone out of his pocket and dialling Lestrade.

 

***************************

 

“I don’t know why I stay with him, I honestly truly don’t sometimes. He does my head in.” John slurred as the last couple hours worth of alcohol started to catch up with him.

Lestrade who was also quite inebriated chuckled. “You know why you stay.”

John who was at this point genuinely flummoxed needed to be informed further. “Why do I stay then?” 

Greg smiled to himself. “You stay because who else would put up with him?”

Which was true but John wasn’t ready to concede just yet. “I don’t know my genius counterpart? Someone who could rival that smug git. ”

Lestrade "Mmm'd" staring down at his drained glass thoughtfully as his body shuddered occasionally with drink-induced hiccups.

“Let’s face it Sherlock, with you is a hundred percent better than Sherlock alone although now I come to think on it you didn’t know him before, so that point is kind of mute really. **Hiccup** Good grief you think you have it... **Hiccup** hard now, imagine him... **Hiccup** before he was more... tamed down. More... domesticated.” The detective inspector chuckled at how strange the word 'domesticated' seemed in reference to Sherlock.

John eyed the man in front of him skeptically. “Tamed? Yeah alright then... he's a vicious sod.” Sherlock's previous words still smarted.

“I’m telling you mate, you don't even-- **Hiccup** but if you two ever split up let me **Hiccup** know yeah? So I can transfer to a force in Minsk or somewhere. Jesus! He'd be unbearable.” The DI wiped at his face as if already imagining the horror.

“No were not—“ 

“Good. You two suit each other down to the ground. Pint?” Before John could answer or clarify the whole 'couple thing' Lestrade had darted off to the bar, John briefly considered why Lestrade might still be under the assumption he and Sherlock were together. John himself did briefly notice how he did sound very much like a put upon husband who was escaping to the pub to bitch about his spouse. John giggled drunkenly at the ludicrous image his booze addled brain had conjured up in his head of Sherlock waiting angrily at the top of the stairs all slippers, silk dressing gown and hair curlers. Again (odd) John concluded.

 

***************************

 

After a few more pints and a few too many shots John and Lestrade had had what they considered at the time, to be the most amazing idea to have a movie marathon at Lestrade's. The reality however was quite pathetic, they didn’t even make it through the initial 15 minutes of the first movie before they abruptly passed out on opposite ends of the sofa each cuddling a cushion. John’s last cognitive thought had been how much better Sherlock would be in the morning. 

 

He however (not for the first time) was completely… wrong.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed this chapter, in the next chapter there'll be a slight bit of angst and a whole lot of fluff!
> 
> Thank you for your lovely words and encouragement so far, they mean a lot! :D


	5. The Fifth Time John Noticed

John woke up to the immediate sensation of his brain being much much to big for his skull. Lestrade’s living room instantly felt like a luminous ball of burning light. The sunrays from the nearby window attacked his eyes with a level of cruelty the doctor had not been prepared for. As the heavily hung-over army doctor attempted to get his baring’s he was startled by a large foot clashing into his sternum, jostling him in a way that threw him even further off balance. John looked up to see who the offending limb belonged to only to see a thoroughly unconscious Lestrade burying himself into dark crevice of the sofa. John reached for his phone looking for the time only to find that it was as dead to the world as Lestrade, which was understandable considering the last time he had charged it had been the day before he and Sherlock had been held hostage for two days. “Dammit” was all he could mumble before his eyes that were currently only capable of squinting began to close again. _“Five more minutes”_ he thought to himself _“what could be the harm?”_

The next time John woke up it was to an ankle in his chin, but luckily the sun had seemed to have lost it’s intensity and he didn’t feel quite so much like an ant under a magnifying glass although he still felt a little tender. As the doctor stretched his muscles with a sickening chorus crackles and pops his eyes landed on the wall clock over his head and as he looked at the time which read quarter past six he couldn’t help but feel a little further off kilter as he struggled to work out whether or not it was morning or evening. With a groan he threw off Lestrade’s foot and scrambled to get up.

After unstably getting to his feet the doctor began a tedious search to find his shoes, which he found had been hurled in two separate locations. The doctor then clambered to the near by desk and wrote a brief note explaining that he was heading home, the doctor in him also advised that the detective inspector drink a tall glass of water and take two paracetamol before he did anything else. A tip John himself would perform as soon as his feet touched the carpet of 221B. Leaving the note by the DI’s head John left to hail a cab.

 

***************************

 

Once John had promptly paid the cab driver and had been suitably grateful for a relatively painless ride home, the doctor let himself into a oddly peaceful flat making his way upstairs assuming Sherlock had run out to complete some bizarre errand or even stranger was asleep. The doctor let himself in and made a beeline towards the kitchen cabinet to receive some much needed medication for his hangover. After gulping down two full glasses of water, two paracetamol and a chewable vitamin C tablet the doctor turned around and almost drop his glass as he laid eyes on a apparently very focused detective staring intently into his microscope.

“ _ **Jeeee…zus!**_ **Sherlock!** You almost just killed me.” The doctor spoke loudly over the thumping of his heart. John failed to notice that the dectective hadn’t reacted as he turned around still clutching his chest with one hand and filing the kettle with the other. John took the few moments he waited for the kettle to boil to collect himself.

“Do you want tea?” The doctor asked after a few minutes “of course you do, you always want tea.”

Reaching into the cupboard for two cups the doctor failed to notice that Sherlock still hadn’t moved.

“Are these cups okay to use? No experiments, right? Because we did discuss this, after the time I almost ingested the sodium cyanide.” The doctor spoke completely oblivious as he poured the two cups, talking inanely as he turned around to put down the detective’s cup.

“You know it’s only going to be so long before one of us actually goes and swallows some toxic—“ John placed the cup down getting ready to take his up to his room when he finally took in the sight of the detective before him.

At first glance nothing was off with the picture Sherlock often sat glued to his microscope, he often more times then not forgot when John was and wasn’t present so he habitually didn’t respond and frequently forgot to say thank you and sometimes actually forgot about Johns existence completely. But something was _“off”_ something was different about the detective’s… well… __everything.__ His hands that always loosely held onto the precious equipment was clinging to it so hard his fingers were paling to a unnatural shade of white, the detective’s stylized curls were wild and frayed. What most caught the doctor’s eye however was the elevated breathing rate his flat mate was barely threatening to contain.

“Sher—“ John had barely gotten the words out of his mouth and his hand had hardly even brushed Sherlock’s arm before the mad detective had jumped out of his seat with lightening speed knocking over his chair and his microscope simultaneously. “Do. Not. _**Touch** _.__ Me!” The mad detective snarled baring all his teeth at once.

 

***************************

 

The doctor was so taken back he couldn’t find the words, so he spoke the only ones that came to mind. _“_ I’m sorry” which apparently was completely the wrong thing to say as he watched the detective’s face twist into a threatening grimace.

“What! _Exactly…_ are you _**'sorry'** _for.”__ The words were growled out with a slow sinister edge that immediately put the doctor into solider mode as if he was registering a possible threat.

“I’m… “ _‘Not sure’_ was how he wanted to finish that sentence but his self preservation instinct told him that would be a grave error.

“Your… what? What are you John?” Sherlock took a calculated step forward.

“Are you sorry? What are you sorry about? Do you _‘feel’_ bad about something… _guilty_ perhaps?”

If john hadn’t been confused before he was well and truly baffled now, he had absolutely no clue as to what was transpiring or why. “I don’t—what are you so upset about? This—this can’t be about last night… _is it_?”

John knew it couldn’t be about the previous night, because John wasn’t wrong, hadn’t done anything wrong. He knows what wrong feels like and he definitely didn’t feel he was in it. Although sometimes applying logic to Sherlock’s moods was always a road to failure but he was almost positive he hadn’t done anything wrong… almost.

“Where. Were. You?” the words sounded like threats as they were snarled.

“I was… out… with Lestrade.” The blogger stammered not quite so sure why he was explaining himself. Sherlock’s face flashed a brief range of emotions from anger to relief to hurt to the detective’s perfected blanked exterior.

“I see and what of our resident head yarder? Did he drop you back?”

“No… I—he… I left—I left him sleeping.”

“Of course, you left a note, yes? There's Ink on your hand?”

“Oh… I… yes”

“You look tired. Is the inspector a bad sleeper?” Sherlock’s questioned with rapid fire.

“Yes—I”

_“Ah”_ Sherlock commented sadly as if he’d gotten an answer he’d expected but not wanted. John’s chest ached at the sound.

“What? I don’t—what’s happening? Right now! What’s—“ John felt out of his depth at present.

“I waited—you—how could—excuse me” Sherlock turned to retreat a classic _Sherlock _move.__

“Sherlock! Wait Jesus… can you just jump off the crazy train and please for the love of God, tell me what I am missing because none—and I mean **_‘none’_** of this is making any sort of sense. What are you doing?”

John grabbed hold of the younger man’s arm as he tried to stop him from walking away.

“What are you so mad about?”

“You. _Cheated! _”__

“I—what?—How can—wait!”

“Eloquent as always Dr. Watson.” The smile on the detective’s face held nothing jovial or pleasant within it as his nose wrinkled.

“God you _reek _o__ f him! To think—I—I was here waiting for you to come back. Waiting to **_‘apologize’”_** the last word was spat with a vitriol that made John want to step back.

“And you, you were with our dear _inspector_ —I would never—never have done that to you!” The conflicting tone of the detective left John puzzled.

The doctor opened and closed his mouth several times hoping that the extra oxygen would go to his brain and clear the mist that apparently was blocking him from understanding what in the living hell was happening.

“Please. Sherlock… please just pause. Please just for one-second pause and pretend that this is something that I have no baring of. Pretend I’m actually the idiot you call me constantly. Just in clear words less then 5 if you can. What are you mad at me about? _Precisely _.”__

_“You. Had. Sex. With. Lestrade.”_ Sherlock growled out his words with deliberate, eloquent precision.

“How’s that for _precise?_ Does that compute in that miniscule little brain of yours? IS THAT _**CLEAR**_ ENOUGH?”

John’s eye’s widened as Sherlock’s words finally registered.

“ARE YOU HIGH?” Sherlock blanched a little at the force of the doctor's deliverance but recovered quickly.

“I. Did. **Not**. Have. Sex. With. Lestrade. And even if I did—even if in some screwed up parallel universe I _did_ do what think I did. I _COULD!”_ Sherlock winced but John missed it as the frustration from last night came flooding back.

“You don’t _own_ me! I don’t need to get your permission you insufferable obnoxious **twat**.” John was seething.

“YOU. ARE. _NOT _.__ MY. BOYFIREND AND WE. ARE. _NOT._ IN. A. RELATIONSHIP!”

To John’s great surprise and in equal measure horror Sherlock’s face crumpled into a painful expression that not even his ‘blanking’ could cover up. His red-rimmed eyes that had just come to John’s attention closed as he turned and walked towards his room shutting the door silently behind him which was for some reason so much more painful to John then if he had actually slammed it.

 

***************************

 

John’s mind raced to find answers and order his jumbled thoughts.

 

What the hell just happened?

 

_**Nothing.** _

 

What did I miss?

 

**_Nothing._ **

****

Where did that… come from?

 

**_Oh._ **

****

It all started to come together blending like threads within a tapestry. How had he missed it? He’d _noticed_ but yet somehow _hadn’t_. Sherlock’s voice echoed inside his head   

 

> “You see John but you don’t observe.”

 

Somehow he and Sherlock had entered some bizarre form of a relationship and it had been so gradual so slight that he hadn’t even seen it happen or rather _observed_ if happen. They were in fact a couple (granted without sex and they would need to talk about _that_ one) but the bickering, the affection; the compromises were all so ‘couple-ish’ and he hadn’t even minded, didn’t mind. Did he? No. No he didn’t. This was what Lestrade had known what everyone else had observed not just seen.

John got up and decided to busy himself while he tried to order everything that had happened over the past 24 hours, hell maybe even the past few years. As he walked to the kitchen sink and emptied the two abandoned cups of tea and righted the younger mans chair and microscope. John thought about how the night before Sherlock had pleaded with him to stay only to turn around and viciously bite him with his words, but as he thought about it more; there was something wrong with that. Granted Sherlock could be a gobby sod even tad bit cruel at times but never out of nowhere or rather never out of nowhere with John. _‘Ah, unless he’s hurt’_ but why would Sherlock be hurt… _‘What did I say?’_ The army doctor thought to himself.

 

***************************

 

After taking a shower and brushing his teeth John began to feel a little more human and a little more understanding of where things had become ‘tangled’ in every sense of the word. John knew he was going to have to talk to the detective, he considered briefly bringing some tea with him but then immediately ruled it out as he wasn’t sure giving an _‘emotional’_ Sherlock a hot weapon was a particularly good idea.

Standing outside the detectives door John considered his course of action he wasn’t sure of what he was going to do but he’d been winging it this long surely that would keep him straight (he huffed a silent laugh at his _ironic_ turn of phrase). The army doctor knocked once and after not hearing a response he decided just to go in after coming to the conclusion Sherlock ‘really’ couldn’t get anymore pissed off with him then he probably already was now. As he pushed open the door he saw the detective sitting in the middle of the bed with his knees pulled up to his chest and his arms cradling himself, the maddening detective looked so small and sad John instantly knew what he had to do. What he wanted to do. John marched forward until he reached the bed and grasped the pale face into his hands he took a deep breath and leaned forward and kissed the younger mans plush mouth, pulling back to watch as the detective gasped a small breath of air and began scanning his face.“I didn’t observe, did I?” John asked quietly

“I didn’t observe,” he said shaking his head.

A quiet _“no”_ ghosted passed Sherlock lips before john found them again.

“I realized why you were hurt…” Sherlock was about to grumble out an _“obviously”_ before John cut him off and shook his head.

“No, not today but last night. You—you said I wouldn’t come back and I—I said of course I’d come back—because—because my _‘stuff’_ was here. And now, now I realize that you thought that I meant just because my stuff was here.” John growled hoping that the gibberish that was coming out of his mouth made some form of sense to the genius.

“ I—I don’t speak well—I didn’t—not clearly at least because what I should have said was that of course I’d of come back—b—because _you’re here.”_ John’s hot breath caressed Sherlock’s skin

“Sher—Sherlock you’re my _stuff.”_

Sherlock looked deep into his bloggers eyes identifying nothing but the truth and smiled his ‘private-John-only-real smile’ and huffed his special baritone chuckle.

“You’ve always been _my stuff_ John”

John joined his laughter and after a few moments sobered as he asked a question he hadn’t asked for over 20 odd years. “Sherlock… would you be… my _boyfriend _”__

The detective snorted, “don’t be an idiot!” but his voice and face were gentle and held none of the normal malice they did when the man often used those words. _“Obvious.”_ The younger man muttered shyly as his face turned warm.

“I’d be _lost_ without my blogger”

And with that the detective tackled his doctor to the bed smothering him in kisses and this time John really did _notice._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so this chapter was super long, I didn't plan it that way it just felt right so I went with it. I apologise profusely for the ridiculous delay in posting this final chapter. I hope it was worth the wait! Thanks for the lovely encouragement.
> 
> x


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